


Silent Sea

by Luna_Motti



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Light Angst, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29292351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Motti/pseuds/Luna_Motti
Summary: a short story that focuses on emotions of the Inquisitor, pre-Tresspasser. Lil bit of angst to keep me going.--She was everything people wanted her to be and nothing when it was convenient to let her go. She became another verse of Chant of Light, even if her lips never swore under Andraste's name. Dalish chose not to talk about her once she lost her vallaslin. It was easier to call her a traitor than to seek the reason.She became an empty vessel filled with Josephine's opinions, Leliana's wit, and Cullen's tactic mindset. It was better like this. --
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas
Kudos: 7





	Silent Sea

Nights like this were painfully slow in Skyhold. Stranger's eye could be enchanted by the tranquilness of old stone walls between which old magic flowed and sang its tune. At this late hour, most of residents were already asleep. One could find just a few night guards left watching over those who slept, a bard singing last tunes to those sleep-deprived, and tired souls having their last drink at the tavern. Even lovers were long asleep, tangled in a love embrace between the sheets. All secrets that had no place in the daylight had been already told. And there was Inquisitor, wide awake. Taking a deep breath in. Counting to one and blowing the last candle out.

Amidst the chaos and wars she was the silent sea. Calm and calculated, all her moves were measured to perfection. Stoic but playful, strict but loving. Avoided when agitated. In the eyes of many, she was the same Inquisitor that saved their life and gave them another chance to make it meaningful. In Skyhold, she was still adored and respected – sometimes feared. Outside of her castle, she was placed on a pedestal as a saviour of all people. She was everything people wanted her to be and nothing when it was convenient to let her go. She became another verse of Chant of Light, even if her lips never swore under Andraste's name. Dalish chose not to talk about her once she lost her vallaslin. It was easier to call her a traitor than to seek the reason. They feared magic that could interfere with their traditions.

At first, she was happy that no one asked. Her bare face felt strange even under her own touch, as rough lines disappeared from her cheeks and forehead. But she swallowed this uncomfortable feeling as well, letting herself dissociate when it was needed or convenient. She became an empty vessel filled with Josephine's opinions, Leliana's wit, and Cullen’s tactic mindset. It was better like this. She goofed around with Sera and kept drinking with Iron Bull. She was smart and charming with Dorian, sweet with Cass, and ever so slightly arrogant next to Varric. Everything was in place and just like that, she saved the world. She had a title, a castle, an army, and a new family made of people that cared. The only piece missing to this puzzle was herself.

There were still things to be done, so the Inquisition remained intact. With Corypheus just defeated, they had some work to be done. But there was more room to rest. She no longer fell on bed, too exhausted to even think. She had room to breathe. And those moments she dreaded the most.  
Because he haunted her rested mind - or at least the memories of him. His terrified eyes when she tried to touch him back in Crestwood when he broke up with her, his pursed lips when she walked by him in Skyhold after that, and his clenched fists when she laughed so easily with others. She could hear his melodic voice that used to soothe her soul when anxiety made her fear for her own life. And she remembered his smile when he talked about the fade. All of those things had a special spot in her mind.  
But there were things she could not recall any longer and it made her heart ache even more. She forgot how it felt to feel the warmth of his hand on her. She could no longer recall the exact hoarseness of his tired voice when he told her long-forgotten tales when they rested next to the bonfire. She could not remember the electricity that ran through her vines when he protected her with his magic on the field. She no longer remembered all his scars and birthmarks. She knew she was to blame. She chose to forget and asked Cole to never bring him back to her consciousness. The less she thought about Solas, the less pain echoed within her. But forgetting was just as hard. No other emotion would take the place of a broken heart. It would remain a hollow space, marked by his presence like a tattoo that even his magic couldn’t take away.

She blew the candles out, the room illuminated only by a sheer moonlight and smouldering fire in her fireplace. Sheets felt cold but silky on her skin, making her shiver. She closed her eyes, not knowing what to expect. She wished for a dreamless night, so her mind and body could rest.  
But her personal wishes seemed to never come true. Her mind was haunted by better days that were to never come back. She stood proud and tall with his shoulder just next to hers, with his hand on her back. They were dressed alike, ready to go to the Winter Palace. He joked about Orleasian parties and chuckled next to her ear. She giggled. It was an honest melody she never heard herself make since he left.

When the day finally came, she dressed up and brushed her hair. With her chin up, she went to the War Room - as it was expected from her. She was there on time, as always. A perfect leader, indeed. She stood there like a monument, trying to remain an inspiration and hope her dear friends needed. Begging her eyes to not betray that she was a silent sea made of tears.

**Author's Note:**

> It was a light angst to warm me up. After few years of not-writing and giving up on it, I decided to return to my little hobby. I'm still a little bit rusty, sorry for that. 
> 
> To whomever read this - thank you for your time.


End file.
